


Overwhelmed

by tablelamp



Category: Inspector Morse & Related Fandoms, Lewis (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Fake Marriage Turns Into Real Love, Group Therapy, M/M, Oh No Talking About Feelings, Undercover as Married, murder investigation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-04-07 21:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19093336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tablelamp/pseuds/tablelamp
Summary: "Any words of wisdom before we start our married life together?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts).



"Any words of wisdom before we start our married life together?" James asked Robbie, tone of voice light.

They were meeting at Robbie's flat to work out the last few details of the undercover job they'd be doing the next few weeks, investigating a therapy group for married couples having difficulties. One member of the group had been killed, but because of the delicate nature of said group, Peterson had had difficulty making inroads with members. Enter James and Robbie, who Innocent had considered "most believable" as a potential married couple, and who were going to temporarily move in together while attending group therapy themselves. Although James wasn't sure how Innocent had made that assessment, he was relieved he didn't have to do this with Lizzie. There was no supervisor-subordinate relationship with Robbie to make things difficult. Well, to make things more difficult.

"Yeah. Don't steal my blankets," Robbie said, giving James a wry look.

James would cross the 'sharing a bed' bridge when they came to it. "Did your wife do that?"

"Sometimes." Robbie looked pensive.

"Sorry," James said. As usual, he was getting things off to a brilliant start. "I shouldn't have--"

Robbie shook his head to show he wasn't bothered. "It's natural to think about it."

James nodded. He knew Robbie still lived with grief, and he tried not to intrude upon that grief. "Of course."

Robbie looked at James. "No, come on. We can't start tiptoeing round each other just cos we're going to be married for a bit."

James tried hard to contain his amusement at Robbie's casual phrasing. "Only for a bit?"

"Unless you know something I don't," Robbie said with a grin.

He did, but that something was definitely not entering the conversation now. "I'm more concerned that Innocent thinks we need therapy."

Robbie sighed. "Can't say I'm looking forward to that. I know it won't be real feelings we're talking about, being undercover and all, but they might find a real one by mistake."

"I can run interference for you," James said. "I'll interrupt or turn the conversation in another direction. Just come up with a signal to let me know I need to."

Robbie looked thoughtful. "We'll be sitting next to each other. What if I take your hand?"

The thought of Robbie seeking comfort by holding his hand did funny things to James's heartbeat. "That works."

Robbie wet his lips nervously. "I thought of something this morning. If you don't want to, you don't have to, but I thought, left to my own devices, I probably would."

"What's that?" James asked.

Robbie fumbled in his pocket for a moment. "I found rings for us."

James was surprised enough he said the first thing that came into his head. "How did you work out my ring size?"

"I have my ways," Robbie said proudly. "What do you think? Would you wear one?"

It wasn't a proposal. James knew it wasn't a proposal. But as he'd never entertained the notion of having this much of a relationship with Robbie, it still managed to feel like one. "I would."

Robbie held out the box. "Here. Do you want to--?" He mimed putting on a ring.

The unexpectedness of the moment loosened James's tongue. "I could be wrong, but I think that's your job."

"Right." Robbie gestured for James to hold his hand out, which James did. He slid the ring slowly onto James's finger. "Here we are."

Vows meant something to James. He'd meant to take a different set of vows some years ago, and when that had fallen through, he'd assumed the entire realm of vows would be perpetually off-limits. But this felt like a vow. This felt like a wedding, the kind of private, quiet wedding that would probably suit them both best if they were genuinely inclined to marry. It surprised him how much he wanted this.

"Does it fit all right?" Robbie asked.

James wiggled his fingers. "Perfectly." He gestured for Robbie to hand him the other ring. "Now you."

"Oh," Robbie said, face reddening. "No, you don't need to."

"We're doing this properly," James insisted. "Ring."

Robbie gave James the ring.

"Hand," James said.

Robbie was beginning to look amused as he held out his hand. "Not one for romance, are you?" 

If Robbie only knew. Still, James could see the humour in the situation well enough. "No one's made an offer." He slipped the ring onto Robbie's finger, noticing how it settled against Robbie's first wedding ring. James's ring and Val's, together on Robbie's hand. It felt significant. "There. It's official."

"Feels a bit..." Robbie searched for a word, didn't find one, and shrugged instead. "...doesn't it?"

"A bit," James agreed, squelching the urge to make a reference to Gretna Green. He wasn't sure how much Robbie knew, or cared, about historical elopements. 

Robbie wasn't one to dwell on potentially emotional moments. "Anything I should know about you while we're sharing a flat? Are there, I dunno, certain times you'll want the shower, things like that?"

Right. Sharing a shower with Robbie. That didn't bring any fascinating images to mind. James cleared his throat. "I tend to shower in the evenings."

Robbie chuckled. "I do mornings. I'll probably wake you."

"I don't mind," James said. "It'll be like the old days."

Robbie gave James a blank look.

"The seminary," James said. "We were awakened early for morning prayers." He forgot sometimes that knowledge of the daily schedule of a seminary was mostly limited to current or former seminarians. His life had revolved around it so thoroughly he'd likely never be rid of it.

"Did you like it? Being up that early?"

James shrugged. "There's some comfort in knowing the shape of your day." It wasn't an answer, but generally Robbie accepted whatever answer James was willing to give.

As he did now. "Last time I was undercover I had a proper job to go with it. Worked as a porter so I could play cricket for the college."

James frowned, certain he was missing something. "So you could play cricket?"

"The victim was on the team," Robbie said. 

"We'll have to find another way to spend our time," James said, trying not to think about Robbie in cricket whites.

"I'm sure we'll come up with something," Robbie said. "If you don't mind, can you help me pack? I thought about choosing things at random, but." 

"But?" James said.

Robbie looked slightly embarrassed. "But I want to look nice. So people don't look at us and wonder why you're with me."

"They won't wonder that," James said. He was a good liar, and anyway, he wasn't going to have to lie much in this situation. Just as well Robbie didn't know that.

"I know they won't, because you're going to help me decide what to bring," Robbie said, gesturing for James to join him in the bedroom.

James had never delved into Robbie's closet before. He looked forward to the novelty of it.


	2. Chapter 2

"We have two new group members joining us tonight, James and Robbie Lewis." Angela, the group leader, was a tall woman with a laconic affect. James wondered whimsically if there was any point trying to work out the psychology of a psychologist. He and Robbie were here to gather information, but also to analyze everyone present as a potential suspect in the case. Angela was no exception. 

"Hello, James," said a young woman with a warm, open face. "Robbie. I'm Fiona and this is Lisa." She gestured to her wife, who seemed more reserved but nodded to them both.

"Andy," said a burly, older man who was wearing a T-shirt for a band James didn't recognise. He turned to his wife, silently waiting for her to introduce herself.

"Maggie," she said. Her voice had an uneven quality James couldn't place, as though she were perpetually running out of breath.

"Dominic," said the dark-haired young man next in the group, "but Dom, unless you're lecturing me."

"Don't be fooled," interrupted his husband, who was taller than Dom and seemed more effusive. "He likes lectures."

"Paul, we've discussed this," Angela said.

Paul seemed to deflate, especially when he looked at Dom, who'd hunched forward and was looking uncomfortable. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

So evidently Paul was somewhat talkative. James didn't always know what to do with talkative people in casual situations, but as witnesses, they were delights. He glanced at Robbie, and Robbie inclined his head in a slight, subtle nod. He'd noticed the same thing. James was relieved to be undercover in this situation. He could focus on analyzing the people around him, which kept his mind off how much pain and emotion there was in this room, pain and emotion that he couldn't do anything about. There was a reason he was a police detective and not a therapist. He knew what damage could be done if you said the wrong thing to someone in need of help.

"Would one of you like to talk about what you're here to work on?" Angela asked.

James took a short breath in through his nose. He and Robbie had worked out their story in advance. "Robbie's retired now, and I'm out of work, so we have lots of time to spend with each other, but things aren't right between us. There's a distance, and I don't know why."

"I don't know why we're here," Robbie grumbled.

"Robbie, let James finish," Angela said. "James?"

James shrugged. "I want him to tell me what's wrong. Why he's unhappy."

"Thank you, James," Angela said. "Robbie, is it fair to say you didn't want to come?"

"Course I didn't," Robbie said, looking grumpy.

Angela nodded. "Why did you?"

Robbie looked at James, a long look that made James feel wobbly, and then looked at Angela. "James asked me to. And I don't want to lose him."

"Do you feel you will?" Angela asked.

Robbie shook his head. "Dunno." He went quiet, hesitating, then said, "But I lost someone once. I don't want to lose James too."

In a situation like this, with layers of truth and lies piled atop each other, James found it impossible to tell how affected by the moment Robbie actually was. Robbie hadn't given James the signal to change the subject, but he wanted to show his support in some way, so he rested a hand on Robbie's shoulder. "I'm here."

Robbie gave James's hand an awkward pat and didn't pull away from the touch. "Ta."

"I wish Joan were here," Paul said.

"Who's Joan?" James asked, though he knew who she was.

"She used to come here with her husband, Phil," Lisa said. "But Phil got killed."

"She found him," Fiona said, shuddering. "In their living room. Someone hit him on the head and he was just lying there." Lisa silently rubbed Fiona's back to soothe her. "Of course she called the police, but it was too late."

"That's awful," Robbie said, exchanging a glance with James. James nodded silently. He had a vivid imagination, and sometimes had to consciously stop himself identifying too deeply with those left behind. If he imagined walking into the living room, finding someone, finding Robbie--no. That was the stuff of nightmares.

"You'll probably be asked about it too," Andy said, taking his wife's hand. "They've been questioning all of us."

"Well, we never met them," James said, "but we'll help if we can."

"I just thought, Joan lost someone," Paul said to Robbie. "Talking to you might help her. You know what it's like. You could share what you did."

Robbie said nothing, but the expression on his face tightened, and he silently reached for James's hand, eyes downcast. 

James took Robbie's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I don't follow football, but if anyone can suggest how any of the players or coaches might improve, I'm willing to listen."

His joke provoked hesitant laughter from some of the others, and Andy took the bait. "I've got all the Man U advice you could ever want, mate, believe me."

"And I've got some of the same advice," Maggie said, which caused another small round of laughter.

"Wait until the World Cup," Fiona said, smiling a little. "I'll have thoughts then." 

James was pleased with the results of his intervention. Nobody was focusing on Robbie, and the tension in the room was mostly eased, except between Dom and Paul. Dom was glaring daggers at Paul, who was glaring back at him. And James wasn't the only one to have noticed.

"Dom, what are you feeling?" Angela asked.

Dom exhaled loudly. "I'm angry. Paul wants to talk to everyone about everything even when he shouldn't."

"And why does that make you angry?" Angela asked.

"Because," Dom said, fidgeting. "Sometimes the things he says about me are things I wouldn't tell people."

"Paul," Angela said, turning her attention to the other man. "How are you feeling?"

"Frustrated," Paul said. "I just want to help! It's got so every time I open my mouth Dom's waiting to tell me why what I've said is wrong."

At this point, James didn't imagine it would take very much to get Paul sharing what he knew about Phil's murder, provided Dom didn't object to what he was saying. Maybe he and Robbie could go on some sort of double date with Paul and Dom and tactfully gather information that way. Ordinarily, James would've suggested that he or Robbie talk to Paul on his own, but given that Paul was having relationship trouble, James didn't want to make it appear that Paul might be involved with someone else. Especially if he was the someone else.

"We've talked before about how different people understand privacy differently," Angela said. "When partners have different expectations of privacy, it can lead to misunderstandings and hurt feelings on both sides." She looked round the room. "Have others of you dealt with this?"

"Yes," Maggie said quietly. "You all know I've had some health troubles." She glanced at Andy. "Sometimes I was scared or in pain. And I wanted to talk about it with Andy. But Andy didn't want to. Kept saying it was none of his business."

"Growing up, we didn't talk about those things," Andy said. "But coming here, I've learned how to listen better to what Maggie needs. And I'm working on it."

"I've noticed a difference," Maggie said warmly. "He's there for me. I know that."

Andy stared at the ceiling to avoid tears. Maggie leaned over and rested her hand on his arm.

James felt he should give them both some privacy, so he refocused on the case. If Maggie had had health troubles, which seemed to be over by now, and the other group members had known about them, that meant she'd been attending this group a while. She might have some useful information about Joan and Phil to share. James didn't expect Andy would share much, but Robbie and Andy might bond over not wanting to talk about personal things. It was worth a try. If James could only--

"It sounds like you two might be dealing with something similar," Angela said, looking at James and Robbie.

James tried to look as though he'd been paying attention the whole time. "How do you mean?"

"Robbie," Angela said. "How do you feel when James asks you to talk about something you don't want to talk about?"

Robbie shook his head, looking baffled. "I don't feel anything."

Paul and Lisa shot each other a pitying glance; clearly they'd been here with their respective partners and knew what was about to happen. James made a mental note that Paul and Lisa were evidently friends; no such glances were exchanged between Fiona and Dom.

"No feelings at all?" Angela asked. "You feel numb?"

"No," Robbie said. "Both of us have things we don't want to think about. We know what they are and we don't push."

Angela looked at James. "Would you agree?"

James nodded slowly. It was true of them in real life; he couldn't imagine it being different if they were married. "Yes."

"So there are parts of yourselves you've locked away from each other," Angela said. "Might this be one of the things causing distance between you?"

Robbie and James exchanged a hesitant glance, both of them wondering how they should respond to a question about a real element of an imaginary interpersonal problem. Then they both nodded.

"It could," James said.

"I suppose," Robbie said.

"What I'll ask you to do before our next meeting is to spend some time identifying what those locked-away parts of yourselves are," Angela said. "Identifying them is the first step. Then you can decide whether you'd rather keep them hidden or share them with each other."

James couldn't imagine having a conversation like that with Robbie in any scenario other than one where they had to, to keep their cover. He wondered what the next few days were going to look like.

"Fiona," Angela said, redirecting her attention. "You've been quiet today. Tell me how things have been between you and Lisa."


	3. Chapter 3

When the therapy session ended, Robbie leaned over and said quietly in James's ear, "Dunno about you, but I'm ready for a quiet night in after all that."

There was nothing James wanted more, but Paul kept glancing over at them, and James suspected that they were going to be on the receiving end of an apology shortly. "I am too, but I'm not sure we're going to get one."

"Tonight? You think so?" Robbie asked, surprised.

James shrugged. "I could be wrong, but he doesn't strike me as the type to wait."

Paul approached them. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For before. I've never been much good at thinking before I talk."

"It's all right, lad," Robbie said. "No harm done."

Paul looked anxious. "Are you sure? Dom said, and I hadn't thought about it, but you're old enough, and so of course it could've been, and I'm really sorry to have stirred all that up for you."

Robbie turned a perplexed look on James, silently asking for a translation. Luckily, James spoke fluent Awkward.

"I think," James said, "Dom reminded him that you could've been with your first love during the AIDS crisis."

Robbie's expression cleared. "Ah." He gave Paul a nod. "You're all right."

Paul sighed heavily. "Thank goodness. I hate having anyone mad at me but, you know. It happens."

"Do you and Dom want to go for a pint?" James asked, taking the opportunity where it presented itself. "We could do with a bit more socialising." He glanced at Robbie, who gave James a dubious look, but didn't argue.

"Erm," Paul said, grimacing. "I definitely never told you this, but one of us is in recovery." His glance back to Dom, who was chatting with Maggie, suggested that it wasn't Paul. 

"Coffee, then," James suggested.

Paul beamed. "I know the best place, and it's just around the corner!"

Dom joined them. "Best place for what, love?"

"Coffee," Paul said. "James and Robbie invited us."

This seemed incomprehensible to Dom. "They did?"

"James is always after me to, what is it? Grow my social network?" Robbie asked, giving James a playful look. "Anyway. One of those things that sounds like the internet but isn't."

Dom and Paul exchanged an amused look that wasn't lost on either James or Robbie.

"What?" Robbie asked.

"Sorry, we just think it's cute when old people talk about the internet," Paul said.

"Older," Dom said hastily.

Paul seemed to realise where he'd misstepped. "Older than us!"

"It's all right. I'm a pensioner. Wouldn't make much sense if I didn't know I was old," Robbie said.

Both Dom and Paul looked relieved.

"It is a really good coffee place," Dom said.

James gestured to the door. "Lead the way."

They made their way to Drake's, a local coffee shop. Paul greeted the barista enthusiastically, which was probably the least surprising thing he'd done all evening, and after they'd ordered, he spent several minutes catching up on the details of her life.

"He knows everyone who works here," Dom said. "Not just their names, but all about them." He, Robbie, and James were sitting at a nearby table with their coffees, and Dom was watching Paul affectionately. "It's one of the things I liked about him when I first met him--how much he likes people."

"How long have you two been meeting with Angela?" Robbie asked, slipping an arm comfortably around James. James tamped down his surprise and leaned into the casual embrace.

"Six months," Dom said. "It might not seem like it, but she's helped us a lot. We had terrible fights about everything. Now, even when we argue, it's much less ugly."

"That's good," James said.

"She'll help you, honestly," Dom said. "I know it's hard to trust an outsider with your marriage but it's worth it."

"Sorry," Paul said, rejoining them. "Sandy has a new dog and was showing me pictures."

"I was telling them how helpful Angela is," Dom said.

"So helpful," Paul agreed, sliding into the seat next to Dom. "I mean, sometimes it's hard, but that's life, right?"

"And you're not worried at all?" James asked.

Dom and Paul exchanged a glance. "Worried about what?"

"What happened to Phil and Joan," Robbie said. "If going to therapy means someone might hurt James--"

"Oh, no, I don't think it had anything to do with that," Dom said.

"No one in the group would do anything to hurt Joan," Paul said firmly. "She's lovely."

James could take a hint. "But Phil wasn't?"

"Well," Paul said uneasily, "not polite to speak ill of the dead." He exchanged another glance with Dom, during which they seemed to come to some agreement.

Dom leaned forward. "Can we be honest with you? We really want to talk about this with somebody, but we've only been asked by this police officer who sort of looked like Clark Kent."

Robbie and James exchanged a glance, and James knew they were thinking the same thing: Peterson.

Paul snorted. "Can you imagine talking to him about marriage therapy? The man probably never even had a bad hair day in his life."

Robbie coughed, presumably to stifle laughter, and James didn't bother to hide his amusement. Their description was apt.

"Go on," James said. "We're listening."

That was all the encouragement Paul needed. He leaned forward across the table. "Well. Marriage counseling only works if both people want it to work. And I don't think Phil did. He came to the meetings, but he hardly talked. Even if Angela asked him questions, he'd answer in one word if he could. He obviously didn't want to be there and he had no problem sabotaging anything that might've worked for Joan. I thought she should've left him."

"I don't think any of us liked him," Dom admitted. "We try not to judge, but Joan was struggling, and he wasn't doing anything to help her. It was obvious when you saw them next to Andy and Maggie, who were doing the work Phil wasn't. We all felt really bad for her."

"That's too bad," Robbie said. "I take it you like Andy and Maggie then?"

"They're amazing," Paul said. "So nice. And I've only known Lisa a little while, but she and Fiona seem nice too."

"They only started a few weeks ago," Dom said. "Maggie and Andy have been seeing Angela at least as long as we have."

After that, the conversation shifted away from therapy and more toward other areas. Dom worked as a graphic designer, and Paul was a career counselor, so James ended up getting much more jobs-hunting advice than he would ever remember or use. Still, James suspected that thoroughness meant that Paul was very skilled at his work and did genuinely help people.

"Well," Robbie said once they were back in the car, "that was interesting."

James nodded. "What do you make of Paul's comment that nobody liked Phil?"

"Fiona and Lisa wouldn't have much time to like him or not," Robbie said. "Not enough time to decide to kill him, unless they have some connection to him we're missing."

"And I don't think Paul would be so eager to gossip about something he'd been personally involved in," James said. "Or something he knew Dom was involved in."

"You think Dom would tell him?" Robbie asked, sounding surprised.

"I don't think they have many secrets from each other," James said.

"Maybe," Robbie said. "I'd still like to get another opinion."

James loved the moments where they were working together on a case and their minds seemed to be moving along the same path, sometimes so much so that one of them knew what the other was about to say. "You want to talk to Maggie and Andy."

"I do," Robbie said. "If Maggie's more Joan's age, they might be friends."

"Sounds like Andy wasn't friends with Phil, but even if we only find out why, that's more information than we have now," James said.

"Right," Robbie said. "We can work on that."

They were staying in an inexpensive, sparsely furnished flat. There was a sofa, a large bed, a telly, a wardrobe, and not much else. James and Robbie had both brought things from home--books, pictures, pillows--both for their own convenience and to make the flat appear as though someone lived there. James didn't expect they'd be inviting anyone from therapy for tea, but in case they needed to, it was best to make this place look and feel like a home.

They were watching the news together on the sofa when Robbie cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I should've asked, but we were with other people. I put my arm around you."

"I know," James said. "I liked it."

"Did you?" Robbie sounded surprised.

James snorted with laughter. "Robbie, I do have nonverbal ways of making it clear that a certain type of touch isn't appreciated. You'd know."

"All right," Robbie said. "So you're fine with things like that."

James nodded. "I am."

"But you would say, wouldn't you? Not just hint at it. If I did something."

"I don't see why it matters."

"It matters because I don't want to hurt you! I don't know your past. I don't know what feels bad or embarrasses you or reminds you of something you don't want to remember."

"Oh," James said. He hadn't expected to have a conversation remotely like this.

Robbie sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if I haven't done enough damage already."

"Damage to what?"

"You." Robbie stared into space. "Watching Dom and Paul made me think. When we first started working together, you talked about things. And I was a grumpy bastard. How many times did I tell you not to talk about something you needed to tell someone? How often did I dismiss something you said?" He looked down. "I made you feel like Paul feels, like he can't say anything without saying something wrong. I trained you not to talk to me."

"I'm a private person," James said. "You didn't make me that way."

"No, I know, but I thought you were like me. You'd have a grumpy DI and you'd know not to take him seriously, because you'd know he thought well of you even if he didn't say so. But you're not like me, are you? And knowing that, thinking back, I wonder."

Robbie didn't have to say what he wondered. James was more than passingly familiar with guilt. Robbie was probably wondering if some off-the-cuff comment he'd made had been hurtful, if he'd closed down conversations that he hadn't known were possible or were on the verge of happening.

"For the most part," James said, "I don't trust people with my deepest, darkest secrets. Traditionally, when I do, it doesn't go well." He was uniquely skilled at pouring his heart out to the people who could do the most damage to it, which in turn made him less trusting. If he, supposedly clever as he was, couldn't accurately determine who was safe to let into his life, maybe the safest thing to do was not to let in anyone. Loneliest, but safest.

Robbie's expression saddened, and he nodded to indicate that James should go on.

"Usually what happens is everything builds to a point where I have to let out what I've been keeping in. Less of a choice and more of a necessity. And I suppose I care too much what you think of me to inflict that on you." He'd always been embarrassingly hungry for approval from people whose opinions he respected.

Robbie nodded. "Maybe if I were more, I dunno, accepting, you wouldn't feel like I was judging you. I'll try to do better. And maybe sometime it'll seem all right to trust me, not just cos you have to."

James reached out, taking Robbie's hand in his. "Thank you. It means a lot to me that you've thought about this."

Robbie looked at their hands. "I know it's hard for you. It's hard for me too. But will you try and tell me what you need?"

"Yes," James said. "I'll try."

Robbie finally smiled. "Good."

This seemed like either the most or least opportune time to bring up something they'd have to face sooner or later. "So with respect to negotiating the bed."

Robbie pulled a face. "That's right. There's only one."

"I don't mind sharing," James said. "In fact, I'd rather do that."

Robbie had an odd look on his face. "Would you?"

"I won't have to come charging into the living room every fifteen minutes because I think I hear something," James said. "If you're with me, you're all right."

"I'd no idea," Robbie said. "All right. We'll share. But sometimes." He sighed. "Used to be a bit of a cuddler. Not sure if I still am."

James considered that a feature, not a bug. "That's fine with me."

"Is it though? You won't think it's strange, waking up with me wrapped around you?"

Strange was absolutely not the word James would've chosen. He was leaning more toward delightful. "Maybe strange in the sense that I traditionally haven't awakened in that state. But I do like to experience new things."

Now Robbie looked amused. "Do you. Well, I certainly won't stand in your way."

So it was settled. And when James woke in the middle of the night to find Robbie holding him, he simply smiled to himself and went back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

"So," Angela said to Robbie and James during the next therapy session, "the task I set you last time was to think about the things you're careful not to discuss with each other. Did you?"

"We did," James said. He didn't want to tell Angela about their conversation, where they genuinely had discussed some things James had assumed they'd never talk about. Angela would probably praise them for having that talk, but James wanted it to be just his and Robbie's for now. Talking like that was something new for him and Robbie, and he didn't want to tell anyone else about it until he knew more about what it meant.

"How did that go?"

"Well, the world didn't end," James joked, "so it must've been all right."

Angela shifted her attention. "Robbie?"

James glanced at Robbie, whose focus was clearly elsewhere. James wondered if Robbie was thinking through something from the session that might have to do with the case.

"Robbie, did Princess Margaret leave?" James asked, affectionately resting a hand on Robbie's arm.

Robbie glanced at James, offering a sheepish smile. "She did."

"Angela asked how it was to think about things we don't say to each other," James said.

"Oh," Robbie said. "It was good."

Angela didn't say anything, but her expression suggested she was interested in what Robbie had to say.

"Very good," Robbie said. James hid a smile. Robbie was clearly never going to be a Paul, in the greater scheme of things.

Other than that exchange at the beginning of the meeting, James and Robbie didn't have to talk too much, as Lisa and Fiona were having difficulties they wanted to discuss. When James began to feel as though he were eavesdropping on someone's privacy, he went back to thinking about the case.

James and Robbie had been in touch with HQ a handful of times, sharing what they'd learnt about Joan and Phil, and Peterson had confirmed to them that neither Lisa nor Fiona had any sort of outside connection to Phil or Joan. Dom and Paul didn't appear to know Phil outside the realm of therapy, so that left Andy and Maggie as potential suspects. And Angela, of course. James considered that eventuality unlikely, but he hadn't discarded it yet, and he knew Robbie hadn't either.

After the session was over, Dom and Paul came by to chat.

"You two sound like you're doing well," Paul said with a smile.

James looked at Robbie, who nodded. "We are. I think we're more relaxed with each other." That wasn't a lie. People adjusted to their environments, and living conditions became normal. Spending all day every day with Robbie reminded James how much he enjoyed Robbie's company. Casual touch had become surprisingly comfortable for both of them in this small amount of time. They often spent the end of the day nestled together watching telly.

"That's Angela," Paul said. "She's magic."

"Or a therapist," Dom said.

"Or a magic therapist," Paul said, giving Dom a playful look, which Dom returned.

"You're in a good mood today," Robbie said.

"Dom got a promotion at work," Paul said, puffing up with pride.

Dom smiled in embarrassment. "I'm going to lead a team of designers on a new project."

"Congratulations," James said.

"Well done," Robbie added.

"Thanks. But I've got to ask...what on earth was that about Princess Margaret?" Dom said.

Robbie laughed. "We were watching a programme about her the other night, and I fell asleep. When I woke up, something else was on. I was so muddled all I could say was, 'Did Princess Margaret leave?'"

"So now it's sort of our private joke," James said. "Whenever one of us is distracted, the other one says, 'Did Princess Margaret leave?'"

"Aww, that's so cute!" Paul said. "Incredibly nerdy, but cute."

James and Robbie exchanged a glance, uncertain how to respond to being called 'cute.'

Dom noticed their discomfort. "Paul, didn't you want to say hi to Lisa? They're leaving."

"Oh! Sorry to rush off. See you next time!" Paul said, hurrying to catch up with Lisa. Dom gave them a casual wave before trotting off after Paul.

Andy and Maggie were having a quiet conversation of their own across the room. James was relieved they hadn't gone yet. Robbie tipped his head in their direction, asking silently if he should talk to them, and James nodded. He was sure Robbie would have better luck than he would. Robbie gave James a quick nod of confirmation, then approached Andy and Maggie.

Angela had been on her way out the door, but stopped near James. "How are you finding it?"

"It's different than anything I've experienced," James said truthfully. Therapy resembled confession in a way, but with a different emphasis.

Angela nodded. "I'm not going to reveal this to anyone else, but I wanted you to know that I'm aware you're not primarily here for therapy."

James looked at Angela, inwardly aghast. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do," Angela said. "You don't need to tell me what you're up to, but if I find that what you're involved in endangers any of my patients, I won't hesitate to report you."

It seemed directness was the order of the day. James could be direct. "I'd expect nothing less."

"Good," Angela said with a brusque nod. "May I also make a suggestion?"

"Please," James said, wondering what she'd say.

"You may not be here for therapy, but if you take it seriously, it may very well help the two of you." Angela inclined her head in Robbie's direction.

"I'll keep that in mind," James said. "Thank you."

"Have a good evening," Angela said, sweeping out of the room.

"It's all settled," Robbie said, walking back to James as Andy and Maggie left. "We'll have a pint with Andy and Maggie tomorrow and--" He stopped, taking in James's expression, and rested a hand on James's arm. "What's the matter, pet?"

"Angela knows," James said, keeping his voice low.

"Knows what?" Robbie said, posture tensing.

"I don't think she's worked out what it is, but she knows we have an ulterior motive for being here," James said.

"Should we be worried?" Robbie asked.

"I don't think so. She doesn't want us endangering the others, but she still thinks therapy might help us." James was going to have to try to unpack that idea later. Why exactly did Angela think therapy would help them as a pair specifically? Did she think they were a real couple? Did she think they should be? It was all hypothetical, of course, but James found the notion intriguing.

Robbie smiled. "Well, she's a therapist. She would do." He patted James's arm. "Thanks for telling me."

"You're welcome," James said. "What do you think? Does that make it more or less likely that Angela's a suspect?"

Robbie frowned. "Hard to say. If she's that protective of her patients, she probably wouldn't attack one, but if she was protective of Joan and didn't like Phil, maybe she would." He pulled a face. "I can't see her place in this yet. Can you?"

"No," James said. "And we can't befriend her." That Angela took therapy so seriously indicated that she would take her professional ethics seriously as well, which made her a less likely suspect. "How did it go with Andy and Maggie? You said we're meeting them tomorrow?"

"I think Andy wants to talk about how hard it is to talk about things," Robbie said.

"I knew you'd get on."

Robbie gave James a skeptical look. "Did you?"

"You're the more reluctant one of the two of us," James said. "You didn't want to come at first. Neither did he. So he feels a connection to you."

Robbie chuckled, resting his hand on James's back. "Sometimes I wonder if you've worked out things about me that even I don't know."

James felt a flash of pride. Praise from Robbie always really meant something. "I could say the same of you."

Robbie smiled. "Home?"

"Home," James agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm glad your Robbie wanted to do this," Maggie said warmly, her gaze straying to Robbie and Andy, who were chatting as they waited for their round to come ready at the bar.

James felt warm inside at the thought of Robbie being his. "So am I."

"The group's for anyone who wants help, I know that, but sometimes Andy and I feel like dinosaurs with all those kids in there," Maggie said. 

James nodded. "I didn't know anyone married that young these days."

"Well, you must've," Maggie said. "Or close to it. How long have you been with Robbie?"

"Seven years," James said. Well, technically it was true. He had been with Robbie in some capacity for the past seven years. Eight, if you squinted. "What about you and Andy?"

"Twenty-five," Maggie said. "I almost don't like to say, it sounds so long."

"That's good, though," James said. "Hope for the rest of us. Paul certainly seems to think so."

Maggie laughed. "That boy. He likes everyone."

"Not everyone," James said.

Maggie's smile faded. "He must've told you about Phil."

"A little," James said.

"Poor Joan," Maggie said with a sigh. "The two of them never seemed to be in the same place at the same time."

James frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Phil was the first to sense that something was going wrong between them," Maggie said. "He didn't know how wrong. You see, Joan had slipped."

It took James a moment. "She was unfaithful?"

Maggie nodded. "Phil wanted to make things right. That lasted until Joan told him what she'd done." She shook her head. "After that, he seemed to give up. She wanted their marriage back, and he didn't."

That certainly explained some of the more hostile behaviour Paul had told them about. "Did Phil know who Joan had, erm--"

"I don't know," Maggie said. "She told me once, but I don't remember now. D something. Daniel or David, and he owned a restaurant." She looked at James, eyes wide. "I didn't tell the police that. Do you think I should?"

"Well, they'll talk to Joan, won't they?" James said, avoiding a direct answer to the question. "She'll tell them."

"I don't know," Maggie said. "She said it was the worst mistake she ever made." She looked down at the tabletop. "I wouldn't like to tell the police a thing like that about me."

James felt a pang of guilt that he probably knew more about Maggie than she would've liked to share with a police officer, but he put the guilt into a box and locked it away. When the case was solved, he'd take it out and spend the appropriate amount of time reminding himself what a terrible person he was.

Robbie and Andy returned to the table, beverages firmly in hand. Robbie slid an orange juice in front of James as he sat beside him. "Here you are, pet."

"Thank you," James said, reaching over to hold Robbie's hand.

"What were you two talking about over there?" Maggie asked.

"Oh, you know," Andy said vaguely, taking a drink. "Things."

Maggie looked at James and shook her head. "It's a wonder we ever get them to talk to us at all."

James turned to look at Robbie. "I'm constantly amazed."

Robbie pulled a face. "You know you love me."

James laughed, nudging Robbie gently with his shoulder. "Of course I do."

"And what did you talk about while we were away?" Andy asked Maggie.

"Oh, you know," Maggie said mischievously. "Things."

Andy looked at Robbie, clearly ready to commiserate. "They're impossible, aren't they?"

"Oh, aye," Robbie said, meeting James's eyes. "But worth it."

Andy and Maggie were excellent company, and they passed a pleasant evening together. Finally, James begged off with the excuse that he was going to do some jobs-hunting the next morning.

"We'll let you go on one condition," Andy said. "That we do this again sometime."

"We'd like that," James said, purposely refraining from a straightforward answer.

Robbie waited until they were in the car to ask, "So what were you and Maggie talking about?"

"I worked the conversation round to Phil and Joan," James said. He didn't want to start driving until they'd shared all the new information they had.

Robbie nodded in satisfaction. "Good man. Anything new?"

"At the start of their troubles, Joan had an affair," James said. "Maggie says Phil gave up after that."

"Broke his heart," Robbie said, an odd softness in his voice.

James shook his head. "We don't know that."

Robbie seemed to shake himself out of whatever reverie he'd entered. "No, course not. Anything else?"

"Maggie used to know who Joan had an affair with, but she couldn't remember his name. Said it was a D name and he owned a..." James felt the case slide into focus in his mind, and it was almost a physical shock. "She got it wrong."

"What's that then?"

"She said he owned a restaurant, but he doesn't. He owns a coffee shop." James looked at Robbie. "And his name starts with D."

Robbie understood right away. "Drake's." He stared straight ahead, putting some of the pieces together. "Oh no."

"Paul's favourite place," James said. "He goes there all the time and knows everyone."

Robbie looked like he might be sick. "And he talks to everyone."

"And if Drake was there one day, and heard how unhappy Joan was," James said. Paul hadn't known about the affair or Drake's connection to it. He could've talked to Drake about it and never known.

Robbie shook his head. Then he reached for his mobile. "I'll phone Peterson."

While Robbie made the call, James drove them home.

Things were quiet back at the flat. James and Robbie put on the telly and sat together on the sofa as usual, but there was tension now, because they were both waiting for the outcome of a case they couldn't do anything more to solve. It was disconcerting to James not to be working closely with either Lizzie or Robbie on a case, to be unaware of what was happening until someone else told him.

They only had to wait a few hours. Robbie got the call, answered it, spoke very little, and then hung up. "Drake confessed. Paul did tell him Joan was unhappy, and he went to confront Phil. Then it all went wrong."

James tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Does this feel as strange to you as it does to me?"

"Every bit," Robbie said. "Never missed the beginning and end of a case before."

James nodded. "At least we have answers. Joan will have answers."

"And we'll disappear from therapy," Robbie said. "Our marriage is now magically perfect."

James snorted. "Well, you still fold socks wrong, but I won't tell if you won't."

"There's no wrong way to fold socks," Robbie said. "Anyway. I suppose we'll have to start packing."

It was an utterly stupid thing to do, but James had somehow forgotten or ignored that when the case was over, they'd have to leave this place and go back to their own flats. Separately. "Tonight?"

"Not tonight," Robbie said. "Unless you think we should."

James shook his head. "It can wait one more night."

Robbie glanced at James. "You know I couldn't have done this with anyone but you."

James felt his heartbeat quicken. "Neither could I."

"And I just. I think." Robbie laughed humourlessly at himself. "I'm rubbish at speeches."

James leaned against him. "You don't have to give a speech. Just be here."

Robbie held James. "I can do that."

James closed his eyes. There was only one night more of this, and he was going to have to make it last.


	6. Chapter 6

It was difficult to get used to life without Robbie.

James's flat was the same size it had always been, but it felt too big for him, and too quiet. He found himself turning to chat to Robbie when he was cooking, or waking up after dozing on the sofa and wondering where Robbie was. Whether he'd meant to or not, James had let Robbie into his life, and now he was paying for it. 

The worst aspect of it all was that Robbie hadn't actually gone anywhere. He was there at work every day, and they had to be cordial and professional as though nothing had happened, as though they hadn't just spent weeks at a highly increased level of intimacy with the expectation that they'd simply forget that when the case was over. James couldn't forget, and he didn't want to.

One night, as James was morosely examining the contents of his fridge and deciding whether to get drunk alone at home or at a pub somewhere, a question popped into his mind: what would Angela think about all this? Based on what they'd discussed, what might she say to him now?

She would tell him he was falling into old habits, James realised, because he was. He and Robbie had done what they always did, dealing with moments of emotion and change by not talking about them. He was coping on his own because he thought he had to, because they hadn't discussed any of this. What if Robbie was doing the same thing? What if the only reason they were both muddling through was that neither of them was willing to say anything?

He hated the idea of talking to Robbie about what they'd experienced. There were so many ways it could go wrong and only a few ways it could go right. But if it was possible for one of those right ways to happen, fuck it, he had to try.

When Robbie opened his front door, James said, "I stole something from you."

Robbie nodded as though this was no surprise to him. "I always knew you'd be a master criminal someday. Suppose now you'll want me to arrest you."

James laughed. "Not really. May I come in?"

Robbie stepped back, gesturing for James to enter, which James did. "So what did you steal?"

"One of your pictures," James said, retrieving the item from his pocket. It was a framed photo of Robbie on holiday somewhere, giving the camera a cheerful smile, and Robbie looked surprised to see it.

"Been wondering where that was," Robbie said, and though he didn't ask the question, James knew he must want to.

"You put it in the bedroom," James said. "In the morning, when I woke up, it was one of the first things I saw every day. When I was packing, I suddenly felt I didn't want to wake up the next day without it. So I stole it."

Robbie nodded. Then he crossed to the bedroom, emerging after a moment with one of James's lemon-coloured throw pillows in his arms. James had been so glum lately he hadn't noticed its absence. "You'll want this, then."

James's heart was beating hard now. Why had Robbie kept it? It couldn't be chance.

"You always made sure it was behind me so I had some back support," Robbie said. "I like seeing it. Makes me think of you."

James took a step toward Robbie. "You can keep it if you want to."

"Thanks," Robbie said, setting the pillow on the sofa. "You can keep the photo."

James tucked the picture back into his pocket, glancing at the pillow. Then he noticed something that caught him off-guard. "You're still wearing our ring."

Robbie nodded. "Couldn't bring myself to take it off."

James almost laughed. He'd been hiding his left hand in his pocket every time Robbie was nearby, but he showed it to Robbie now. The ring Robbie had chosen was still there. "Neither could I."

Robbie took a hesitant step toward James, looking hopeful. "Is that why you're here?"

"No," James said. Seeing Robbie's face fall, he added, "Not entirely. I'm here because I." Why was it so bloody hard to say? "Because I trust you, and I want you to know how I feel."

"How do you feel?" Robbie asked, smiling broadly. He knew. James was sure he knew. And James knew how Robbie felt too.

James smiled, moving closer. "You tell me."

It was impossible to tell which of them reached out first, but there they were, standing in Robbie's living room, in each other's arms. James could feel his entire body relax, and thought he could feel Robbie relax too. He'd needed this.

"I'm glad you're here," Robbie whispered.

James could finally let go of his fear now. It had been wrong the whole time. "So am I."

"This is what Andy and I talked about," Robbie said. "That night at the pub. He said if I was like him, I'd never be sorry for being more open with you. But then we'd solved the case, and I wasn't sure." He sighed. "Bloody ridiculous. I can face murderers but I can't say, 'I love you.'"

"You can," James said, warmed by Robbie's indirect confession.

Robbie stroked his fingers up and down James's arm. "If I'd missed you, though. If I'd missed this."

The thought gave James the same feeling of dread he suspected it gave Robbie. "I know."

"Would you do something for me?"

"I've been waiting for you to ask," James said. "Yes, I'll fold your socks."

Robbie laughed. "Not that." He took a deep breath, and the vulnerability in his face and body language made James want never to let him go. "Kiss me?"

James couldn't help smiling. There was an unfamiliar lightness and joy inside him that he couldn't hold back. "I knew it was a good idea to talk about things."

He could feel Robbie's laughter against his lips.


End file.
